Charles Sheffield - Transcendence

“It don’t surprise me,” Nenda said in answer to Darya’s question. “Lot more things in the spiral arm than there is in the data banks — an’ half of what’s in there is wrong. That’s why E.C. Tally’s so screwed up — he only knows what the data banks dumped into him. You won’t find the Polyphemes in the Species Catalog, because they’re not local. Their homeworld’s way outside the Periphery, some godawful place in the Sagittarius arm on the other side of the Gap. What you want to know about Dulcimer?”

“Why did you say ‘I’m warning you now, he’s a Chism Polypheme’?”

“Because he’s a Chism Polypheme. That means he’s sly, and servile, and conceited, and unreliable, an’ he tells lies as his first preference. He tells the truth when there’s no other option. Like they say, ‘There’s liars, and damn liars, and Chism Polyphemes.’ There’s another reason the Polyphemes aren’t in your data bank — no one could get the same story from ’em twice running, to find out what they are.”

“So why are you willing to deal with him, if he’s such an awful person?”

Nenda gave her the all-admiring, half-pitying glance that so annoyed Hans Rebka, and stroked her upper arm. “First, sweetie, because you know where you stand with a guaranteed liar. An’ second, because we got no option. Who else would be crazy enough to fly into the Anfract? And be good enough to get us there. You only use a Polypheme when you’re desperate, but they’re mebbe the galaxy’s best pilots, and Dulcimer’s top of the lot. He usually needs work, too, ’cause he has this little problem that needs feedin’. Last of all, we want Dulcimer because he’s a survivor . He claims he’s fifteen thousand years old. I think he’s lying — that would mean he was around before the Great Rising, when the Zardalu ruled the Communion — but the records on Bridle Gap show he’s been droppin’ into the Sun Bar there for over three thousand years. That’s a survivor. I like to go with survivors.”

Because you are one, yourself, Darya thought. And you’re a liar, too — and you’re self-serving. So why do I like you? And speaking of lying…

“Louis, when you told us how you and Atvar H’sial left Serenity, you said something I don’t understand.”

“We didn’t just leave — we were thrown out, by that dumb Builder construct, Speaker-Between.”

“I know that. But you said something else about Speaker-Between. You said that you thought it was lying about the Builders themselves.”

“I never said it was lying . I said I thought it was wrong . Big difference. Speaker-Between believes what it told us. It’s been sittin’ on Serenity for four or five million years, convinced that the Builders are just waitin’ in stasis until Speaker-Between and The-One-Who-Waits an’ who knows how many other constructs have selected the right species to help the Builders. An’ then the Builders will pop back out of stasis, and everything will be fine, and Speaker-Between and his lot will live happy ever after.

“Except that’s all bunk. Speaker-Between’s dodderin’ along, doing what it thinks it was told to do. But I don’t believe that’s what it was really told by the Builders. You can get things screwed up pretty bad in five million years. Atvar H’sial agrees with me — the constructs are conscientious, an’ real impressive when you first meet ’em. An’ they got lots of power, too. But they’re not very smart .”

“If that’s true, where are the Builders? And what do they really want the constructs to do?”

“Beats me. That’s more your line than mine. An’ right now I don’t much care. We got other worries.” Nenda turned, to where Atvar H’sial had finished connecting the supply lines. “Like how we land on Bridle Gap. We’ll be there in two days. The Erebus can’t go down, because J’merlia and Kallik were dumb enough to buy us a Flying Dutchman. An’ we don’t have credit to rent a downside shuttle. So you better cross your fingers.”

Atvar H’sial was turning spigots, and the pipes leading to the brown ovoid were filling with cloudy liquid. Darya followed Louis Nenda and bent to stare at the shiny surface of the egg.

“What is it?”

“That’s the question of the moment. This is the gizmo that Julian Graves found when he was pokin’ around the other day. No one could identify it, but yesterday At took a peek at its inside with ultrasonics. She thinks it might be a ship-seed. The Erebus is a Tantalus orbital fort, so it never expected to land anywhere. But there would be times when people on board needed to escape. There were a dozen of these eggs, stacked away close to the main hatch. In a few hours we’ll know what we’ve got. ’Scuse me. At says I hafta get busy.”

He hurried away from Darya to crouch by the spigots and control their flow. Fluids were moving faster through the supply lines, and the glossy surface of the ellipsoid was beginning to swell ominously. A soft, throbbing tone came from its interior.

“Don’t get too close,” Nenda called.

The warning was unnecessary. As the egg began to quiver, Darya turned and headed out through the exit of the auxiliary engine room. Nenda had given her a lot to think about.

Atvar H’sial watched until Darya was out of sight. “That departure is not before time, Louis Nenda.” The pheromonal message carried a reproving overtone. “As I remarked before, the human female provides an undesirable distraction for you.”

“Relax, At. She don’t care about me , and I don’t care about her. All she’s worried about is the Builders, and where they are.”

“I am not persuaded; nor, I suspect, is Captain Rebka.”

“Who can go stick it up his nose. And so can you.” Louis spoke in irritated tones — but he did not provide his final comment in pheromonal translation.

The world of Bridle Gap had never been settled by humans.

The reason for that was obvious to the crew of the Erebus long before they arrived there. The parent star, Cavesson, was a tiny fierce point of violet-blue at the limit of the visible spectrum, sitting within a widespread shell of glowing gas. The stellar collapse and shrugging off of outer layers that had turned Cavesson into a neutron star forty thousand years earlier would have vaporized Bridle Gap — if that world had been close-by at the time. Even today, the outpouring of X- rays and hard ultraviolet from Cavesson created an ionized shroud at the outer edge of Bridle Gap’s atmosphere. Enough ultraviolet came blazing through to the surface to fry an unshielded human in minutes.

“It must have been a rogue planet,” said Julian Graves. The Erebus had sat in parking orbit for a couple of hours, while the ship’s scopes revealed as much surface detail as possible. Now it was time for action.

“It was on a close-approach trajectory to Cavesson,” he went on, “and if the star hadn’t blown up, Bridle Gap would have swung right on by. But the ejecta from Cavesson smacked into it and transferred enough momentum to shove it to a capture orbit.”

“And if you believe that,” Hans Rebka said softly to E.C. Tally, “you’ll believe anything.”

“But you reject that explanation?” The embodied computer was standing between Rebka and Darya Lang, waiting for Atvar H’sial’s signal from within the seedship that the interior was thoroughly hardened and the little vessel ready to board.

Rebka gestured to the blazing point-image of Cavesson. “See for yourself, E.C. You take a look at the spectrum of that, then tell me what sort of life could develop on a void-cold rogue world, far from any star, but adapt fast enough to survive the sleet of radiation from Cavesson.”